


Detention, Destruction, and Devotion

by noxsoulmate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Confused Castiel (Supernatural), Fluff, Jock Dean Winchester, M/M, Meet-Ugly, Nerd Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Quarterback Dean Winchester, Secret Crush, Stereotypes, frenemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21611260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxsoulmate/pseuds/noxsoulmate
Summary: Even though they have attended the same school for over a decade now, Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester don’t actually know all that much about each other. Dean seems to be the stereotypical jock and Castiel the prejudiced nerd.That is all going to change when a ‘meet-ugly’ leads to detention, destruction, and devotion - not necessarily in that order.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 27
Kudos: 424





	Detention, Destruction, and Devotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xHaruka17x](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHaruka17x/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the wonderful [xHaruka17x](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHaruka17x) 😘💚💙 
> 
> My dear friend wanted a meet-ugly high school fic for her birthday present and I'm so, so happy I made it just in time 😁 a week ago I thought I wouldn't be able to do it at all because nothing really inspired me. But then came the "Dare Squad" over in [Sanctum of (in)Sanity: A NaNo Coven](https://www.facebook.com/groups/662259464298240) and my dare was _Your characters participate in/are caught in the middle of a food fight_... and out of nowhere, there was this idea 😊 
> 
> xHaruka17x, I really hope you like it, Happy Birthday and all the best 💖

Castiel was seething. Really _seething_.

He was waiting outside the principal’s office, waiting for the man to call him inside, to doom him to a fate that had not been on Castiel’s agenda when he entered the school this morning.

Or this year.

Or ever, really.

Because Castiel Novak was not a student to get detention.

No, Castiel was a grade A student with a spotless record and was the best prospect in the entire school to get a scholarship for his brains and not his muscles. But no, of course, now he would get a black spot on that perfect record of his and it was all because of one person.

Dean Winchester.

Castiel glared at him, hardly able to keep his anger at bay.

Gods, how he loathed that guy.

That… that… _jock!_

Just before he could get up to strangle him, or demand restitution of some kind, the door opened and they were both called into the principal’s office.

Castiel had been here a few times - yet never because of imminent detention. Usually, he was here to receive praise or another prize and Principal Shurley never failed to tell him how proud he was of him.

Today, however, his gaze looked darker.

“Usually, I would ask if it was true, if what you’ve been accused of really happened. However, judging by your appearances...”

Principal Shurley’s eyes roamed over both their bodies, disappointment clearly written in the lines of his face. No doubt cataloging the countless stains and probably some leftover food too. 

Castiel could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, embarrassment mingling with the anger he felt. He always left his house in pristine condition and not even a rough day at school or a thunderstorm could usually keep him from returning back home in the same manner.

Today, he was a mess, and he was pretty sure that some fries had found their way into his boxer shorts.

“So,” Principal Shurley continued. “Since it’s pretty obvious _what_ happened… Do either of you care to explain to me _why_ it happened?”

“It was just a stupid joke,” Winchester began, reclining in the chair as if he didn’t give a damn.

Well, he probably didn’t, seeing how the star quarterback would most likely get out of this with just a slap to his wrist. There was an important game this weekend and with Coach Turner’s rule of “detention equals bench,” the last thing their principal would do was discipline their most important player.

Gods, how he hated this privileged… ass… butt!

“A joke?” Principal Shurley repeated. “A _joke_ is what has food all over the cafeteria.”

“No,” Winchester replied, sitting up. “I meant- it started as one. We were just fooling around a bit. We never thought it would get that out of hand.”

“And who started it all?” Principal Shurley already seemed much calmer, appeased almost.

Winchester shrugged his shoulder.

“I guess… me? I’m really sorry about that, Principal Shurley. It was kind of a group thing, just us being stupid, hyped about the game this weekend, I guess.”

Oh sure! Remind the principal about the big game for good measure.

Castiel was seething for real now.

“I’m sorry it got so out of hand. I swear it wasn’t supposed to.”

“Well,” Principal Shurley told him, clearing his throat. “I guess, being ‘hyped’ is understandable.”

“Thanks, Principal Shurley. I promise you, it really was nothing.”

At that, Castiel scoffed. “Really now? Tell that to my miniature of the Colosseum that now has an unwanted addition of mayonnaise and lettuce and _meatballs_ in it!”

“Hey man, look, I’m really sorry about-”

“ _Castiel!_ My name is _Castiel_. We’ve been classmates for over a decade now! When will you finally _stop_ calling me ‘man’ or ‘dude’ or ‘buddy’ or any other infantile name and _finally use my name_?”

“Mr. Novak, would you please calm down!” 

The principal was visibly angered again and Castiel quickly tried to rein in his temper.

“I apologize, Principal Shurley. It’s just… I spent the past week building this miniature, and I wanted to hand it in early, to show Mrs. Naomi-”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Novak. I’m quite aware that your little school project got ruined because of the stupid food fight-”

“ _Little school project?_ ”

“However, that is hardly any reason to throw food at your classmates.”

“ _He started it!_ ”

“Mr. Novak! Calm your voice. Mr. Winchester has just apologized and already explained that no harm was meant, merely a joke between friends. Now, what’s your excuse?”

“My… my _excuse_?”

Even though he had anticipated it - _foreseen it_ , really - Castiel was still flabbergasted at the question. So this was how this was gonna play? Winchester had started it but would get out of it, scot-free, and Castiel would be the one to take the fall?

“My excuse, _Principal_ , is that my precise miniature of the Roman Colosseum got destroyed. So I picked one - _one_ \- meatball out of it and threw it back at Winchester. That’s all.”

“Well, it’s not, now is it? As I see it, your action animated the rest of the school to join in the food fight and not leave it as friendly banter amongst the team.”

“Wait, what?”

Castiel was pretty sure he had only imagined Winchester interrupting the principal. Then again, it had to be him, because Castiel himself was simply speechless.

“Woah, Principal Shurley,” Winchester continued as the principal did not go on. “No. No man, this really wasn’t Novak’s fault. _We_ started it. The team did. Novak… Castiel… he…”

Castiel couldn’t believe what he had just heard and when Winchester looked at him he also couldn’t look away.

“He really did nothing. The food fight would have happened with or without him.”

Principal Shurley was silent for a moment, giving Castiel enough time to let the words sink in. Had Winchester - jock and assbutt par excellence - just _defended_ him?

“Well, Mr. Winchester. It certainly honors you, to try and take the blame. But as I see it, this case is clear. Mr. Novak, please report to Mr. Crowley this afternoon. You will have detention for the rest of the week-”

“ _WHAT?_ ”

Castiel was so shocked, he didn’t even wonder about hearing Winchester exclaim in disbelief as well.

“And you, Mr. Winchester, make sure this doesn’t happen again. I will not tolerate such behavior at my school.”

Castiel was shaking he was so angry. Grabbing for his satchel, he got up and was about to leave - when a steady hand held him back.

“Principal Shurley, you _can’t_ do this!”

Winchester’s hand was preventing him from leaving, but his eyes were on the principal.

“A detention like that will ruin Novak’s spotless record. You might take his chance for a scholarship or even-”

“Mr. Winchester, please do not tell me what I can or cannot do. Mr. Novak should have thought of these things before throwing food.”

“Then put me in detention as well! I deserve it far more than he does.”

“You already showed remorse over what you did - Mr. Novak seems to see no fault in his actions.”

While the whole moment was one that Castiel would have never thought he would ever witness, Winchester’s next action was the most bizarre of them all. He stood abruptly, anger written all over his face.

“Stop doing that! Stop favoring me because I’m part of the team. I did something stupid today, so _goddamnit_ , punish me for that!”

“Mr. Winchester, I’d advise you to leave now. Take that anger to the field - it will hopefully do us some good. And now, I would like to go back to these documents. Good day, Gentlemen.”

With that, the principal really did focus his attention on the papers on his table, the two students in his office apparently all but forgotten.

Not knowing how to react, Castiel was taken by surprise as Winchester left, pulling him along by the wrist he was still holding. They were already outside by the time Castiel’s brain woke from his momentary stupor. Forcefully, he pulled his hand out of Winchester’s grip.

“You can drop the act now, Winchester.”

Winchester turned around and good God, for a moment, Castiel needed to rein in his feelings. With all the heightened emotions, his stupid crush on the quarterback had the audacity to flare back to life.

But not with him, oh no! Quicker than the speed of light, Castiel stomped on that unwanted flicker of feelings. He thought he had them killed years ago. But sometimes, when these stormy green eyes were focused on him, he found he had to fight an old battle.

One he would certainly never lose - he would never sink so low - but one that was still very much annoying.

“What act?” Winchester asked, green eyes flickering over his face. “You think I’m acting?”

“Oh, please,” Castiel huffed. “As if you really cared for the injustice of all of this. It’s easy to talk back to the principal from such a high horse, isn’t it?”

“Dude, you think-”

“For the last time; I. Have. A _name_.”

He did not grow loud. Oh no. Castiel hissed his words, his voice icy and cold, giving even himself the chills. 

God, how much he hated this arrogant bastard.

And God, how much he hated his own _body_ for being so traitorous. Part of him wanted nothing more than for Winchester to keep tugging on his wrist, to pull him into one of the broom closets and kiss him senseless - just how he liked to do with all the cheerleaders.

God, how much Castiel hated himself at this moment.

Not able to stand this situation for even a second longer, Castiel turned on his heels and marched down the hallways to the class he was supposed to have been in for the past half an hour.

~*~

The phone call to his mother to tell her he had an after-school detention was probably the weirdest moment of his life. 

His mother had actually been happy. _Happy_. 

She was almost ecstatic that her prim and proper son ‘finally did something normal, for once’. Apparently, getting into trouble and acting juvenile was normal for the family, and she had worried that he would miss out on all the fun of growing up because he was so supercilious. 

What.

The.

Hell?

The only good thing to come out of this - in Castiel’s opinion - was that he would be able to use the time in detention to finish all his homework. Then, when he got home, he would be able to spend all of the afternoon to repair his miniature. Although… maybe it would be better to just start from scratch. He doubted that the mayonnaise could be washed away.

He was already so focused on his homework by the time detention actually began, he jumped when the door opened again, just as the bell rang.

“Sorry, Mr. Crowley, didn’t mean to be late. I had to catch Coach Turner to tell him I have detention.”

Castiel’s head snapped up, not believing what he heard. His eyes were glued on Winchester’s face as he dropped down into the seat right next to him.

As their eyes caught, Winchester’s smile grew wider and he even threw him a wink. 

Mr. Crowley cleared his throat, pulling Winchester’s attention back to the front of the room. “Ehm, what exactly are you doing here, Mr. Winchester? I don’t have you on my list.”

“Really now?” Winchester replied, acting surprised. “That’s weird. You see, me and Novak here, we are equally at fault for what happened at the cafeteria earlier. Surely, Principal Shurley didn’t forget to write down my name as well? Seeing how we _both_ obviously deserve the same treatment?”

“What are you doing?” Castiel couldn’t help but whisper in his direction as Mr. Crowley pulled out his cellphone, most likely to contact the principal. No one wanted to see their star quarterback in detention the week of such an important game.

Winchester, however, just shrugged. “You thought I was acting earlier. I’m proving you wrong. I hate getting the quarterback bonus.”

“So you’re sneaking _into_ detention?”

“Yeah. Fair’s fair.”

Castiel was pretty sure he looked like a fool as he stared at the boy next to him. He was even more surprised when Winchester pulled out his school supplies to start his own homework. Somehow, he had always imagined him just not doing them at all.

“Have you chosen a project yet for literature?” Winchester asked, “I really can’t decide if I wanna write about Vonnegut or Lee. They both have… what?” Winchester finally asked, likely catching Castiel’s completely confused composure. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Castiel replied, as if on autopilot. “No, I was just… sorry… I just…”

“What?” Winchester asked, a playful grin on his face. “You think I pay a classmate to do my work for me? Or better yet, that the teachers just let me pass cause I’m the best quarterback the school has seen in almost two decades?”

The fact that Dean wasn’t exaggerating here - merely stating what everyone knew to be true - and that he had hit the bullseye so spot on, had the heat rising in Castiel’s face within seconds.

Right away, Dean’s grin fell away. “Sonofabitch, that is _exactly_ what you thought of me, isn’t it?”

Thankfully, Castiel was spared from having to answer by the door opening again.

“Mr. Winchester! Just what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

Castiel really tried but he couldn’t remember any other time he had seen their Principal so enraged like this. He was followed by Coach Turner - who looked as sorely as always, no difference there. 

Winchester seemed unimpressed as he looked up at the two men.

“Homework? What else would you have me do during detention?”

“You should not _be_ in detention.”

“Neither should Novak and yet, he’s here,” Winchester replied, the carefree tone now gone. In fact, he sounded rather challenging.

Before the principal could say anything, Coach Turner stepped forward.

“Boy, you know what ya doing here? You won’t play this weekend if you don’t get your ass up right this moment.”

“Sorry, Coach, no can do. You’ve taught us better than that.”

“And what was that?”

“Courage, and to fight for what’s right.”

Coach Turner looked positively taken aback by that statement. Right away, pride and annoyance seemed to war with each other across his features, before annoyance won.

“Didn’t I also teach you to pick your battles?”

“I don’t think you ever taught us to lose. Or at least, you taught us to never give up. So, as long as Novak stays, I stay.”

Castiel was not certain what was just happening here. Was Winchester really risking not being allowed to play the next game, just to give Castiel some justice? Or to get him out of detention?

Whatever it was… it was working? Like, what the hell?

With an exaggerated huff of air, throwing his hands in the air, Principal Shurley turned towards Mr. Crowley.

“It seems there is no detention happening this week, after all.”

“None?” Mr. Crowley asked, his gaze wandering towards Castiel in an exaggerated gesture.

“None!” Principal Shurley repeated with force, turning to Castiel. “Mr. Novak, pack up your stuff. And good day.”

Without further words, he turned on his heels and left with an air of authority and annoyance, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

Tense at least in Castiel’s opinion. Winchester, however, was the opposite, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. Not even wavering when he looked up into the stern face of his coach.

“Can it, Winchester! Get your ass home, I don’t wanna see that ugly mug anywhere near my field today, you hear me?”

“Sure thing, Coach Turner. See you tomorrow!”

Coach Turner looked like he was about to hit Winchester over the head, yet left without a further word, just grumbling into his beard. He was followed right away by Mr. Crowley, the man leaving without so much of a glance back.

Suddenly, Castiel was alone with Winchester, flabbergasted and shocked, a constant chant of _“what just happened?”_ sounding in his mind.

“Well, that went well,” he heard Winchester say. 

As Castiel looked over at him, he was still grinning, possibly even wider than before. 

“Come on, let’s go.”

The next few minutes were somewhat of a haze, Castiel still trying to make sense of what happened - until he found himself back outside the school, Winchester still by his side.

“I have no idea how you did that, or why,” he admitted, balancing the miniature in one hand as he pressed the scarf closer to his face, warding off the suddenly icy wind. “But thanks.”

“No problem, man. Was the least I could do. Hey, let me drive you home.”

“What? No. No, it’s fine.” 

“Hey, it’s no issue, really. Look at the terrible weather.” Winchester gestured to the overcast sky, “And it’s on my way anyway.”

Castiel looked up in surprise.

“You know where I live?”

“Ehm, yes?” Dean replied, looking confused. “I used to drop Sammy off, remember?”

Castiel closed his eyes for a second. Yeah, he had spaced out on that fact for a moment. A few years ago, Samual Winchester had been close friends with Castiel’s younger brother, until they had joined different groups of friends in high school.

“Right, yeah. Right.”

Shifting the miniature, Castiel had to push the strap of his satchel back up his shoulder. He tried not to look at the ruins of the beautiful Colosseum. Especially not, when the first drop of rain started to fall.

“See, now it even starts raining. Come on, give me this.”

“What-”

Before Castiel could complain, Winchester had already taken the miniature out of his hands and marched over to the parking lot.

“Really?” Castiel asked, more to himself - or the universe, whatever - but gave in quickly as the rain picked up.

He got into the car just before it got really bad, saving himself from looking like a drowned cat.

“Seatbelt,” Winchester ordered as he started the car, rock music blasting around them right away.

Castiel gave him an annoyed look - he knew how to be a passenger in a moving vehicle, thank you very much - but choose not to say anything. He was grateful, so he wasn’t going to start an argument.

For now.

“So, I was thinking,” Winchester said once they had driven for a few miles. “I don’t have anything else to do today... And I guess you are going to save what can be saved from your project - want me to help?”

“Excuse me, what? Help- help me? _You_?”

“Wow, thanks, don’t sound so surprised.”

“No, that’s not- I mean… I think I’ll just stop talking now.”

Castiel could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, once again from embarrassment. He was embarrassed about his words and how stupid he was and mostly, that he might have hurt Winchester’s feelings in the process. To his surprise though, he heard him chuckle.

“I’m kind of ruining that stereotypical picture you have of me right now, don’t I?”

Thanks to the light tone of voice, Castiel felt brave enough to be honest. 

“A bit, yes,” he admitted, his lips quirking into a smile as Winchester chuckled again.

At a red light, Castiel found green eyes fixed avidly on him. 

“Okay, how about this, I make you a deal. You let me help you with your project and I have until we’re finished to convince you that all you think you know about me is actually wrong.”

“Why?” Castiel asked, honestly surprised about the… offer?

Winchester shrugged his shoulders.

“Don’t know? Maybe I’m just that vain and don’t like people hating me.”

“I don’t-” Castiel began, but interrupted himself when Winchester threw him another glance, eyebrow raised and a tell-tale smirk on his lips.

Just then, the lights switched to green and Winchester’s eyes were focused back on the street.

“Fine,” Castiel gave in. “What if I say yes? What are the stakes?”

“If you still hate me tonight, I’ll treat you to lunch tomorrow.”

“So… my prize for still not liking you would actually be to… spend even more time with you?”

“I’ll grow on you eventually, you’ll see. And if you realize that by tonight - if I _win_ \- you’ll have to come to the game this weekend.”

“What? No! Why?”

“Have you ever even _been_ to a football game?”

“Well,” Castiel tried to counter right away. “Have you ever been to one of the school’s plays?”

“Yes,” Dean replied without hesitation. “I’ve been to all of them.”

“You’re lying.”

Castiel was sure that the shock in his voice was too clear to be overheard.

“No, I’m not. I liked you best as Hamlet, though I have to admit that your Romeo wasn’t bad either.”

Castiel’s head was spinning. This was so surreal - who even _was that_ , next to him?

“Well? Already starting to see me in a different light?”

That cute little smirk was back on Winchester’s lips, challenging Castiel.

Narrowing his eyes, he squinted at Winchester.

“Fine,” he finally said. “The deal stands.”

“Awesome,” Winchester replied, as he turned into Castiel’s street.

~*~

If Castiel had to name the weirdest days in his life, this one right here would surely make the top three.

They had spent the past two hours cleaning up the miniature. When they weren’t able to get all the stains out - just as Castiel had feared - Dean suggested lacquering it with a darker coating once it was completely repaired. It would not look as good as Castiel wanted it to, but at least it would be salvaged to a decent standard.

He had agreed to the compromise and they had gotten to actually repairing the parts that had been broken.

Somewhere along the way, Castiel had stopped calling the man _Winchester_ , even in his head - _Dean_ simply sounded more natural anyway. And Dean had taken to calling him _Cas_ , the nickname rolling off his lips as if he had always called him by it.

Castiel had also gotten to realize that he had been so very, _very_ wrong about the young man, Dean proved it with every word he spoke. They had talked about the different plays Castiel had participated in and discussed the pros and cons of the different subjects they could pick for their literature project. Over time, Castiel had to admit that Dean was not just faking what he talked about. The guy actually liked reading and very quickly, Castiel came to realize that Vonnegut was his favorite author. But more than that, Castiel came to realize that Dean was actually _smart_.

“You know,” Dean said after a comfortable silence. “I think, despite all of this-” he gestured over the miniature, “-I’m actually glad it happened.”

“ _Excuse me_?”

“Not… not _that_ way. Just… well just that I rather like our meet-ugly.”

“Meet-ugly?” Castiel asked, looking up, holding the little wooden stick figure in his hand as Dean applied the glue. “We’ve known each other for years, how was this a meet-ugly?”

“We’ve _attended_ school together, yeah. We’ve had some joined classes… But… we didn’t really know anything about each other, did we? We never talked to each other for this long before. So, can we actually say that we’ve ‘met’ before?”

Castiel was still staring at Dean, causing the young man to take the stick figure out of his hand and putting it back into its rightful place in the arena before the glue could drip and make a mess.

“I have never thought of it this way. What a… _different_ way to see it.”

“Different?” Dean asked, grinning as he looked up at Castiel. “Or do you mean weird?”

“Why not both?”

When Dean’s smile turned into a chuckle, Castiel couldn’t help but join in.

“For never really having met, I feel like you actually know a lot about me. How come?”

“Maybe I see and hear more than you give me credit for?”

Castiel could be mistaken, but he was reasonably sure that there was something flirty in Dean’s smile. He chose not to reply and rather went back to fixing the stands in the west wing of the Colosseum.

“On the other hand, you seemed to have a pretty clear picture of who I am,” Dean went on after a while.“Have I changed your mind yet?”

“Maybe,” Castiel admitted, smiling at Dean. “But you still have time to convince me further. This isn’t done yet, after all.”

Truth be told, Dean had convinced him a while ago already - but Castiel was enjoying the moment too much to admit to it so soon. Having Dean here, being all nice to him… yes, those old feelings had definitely reared their head again, Castiel could admit that to himself.

“Well, anything you want to know in particular?” Dean asked conversationally while gluing another figure into the arena.

Castiel thought about it for a moment, before replying.

“How often do you actually get the ‘Quarterback Bonus’? You said you really hated it and it sounded like it’s a rather frequent thing,” he clarified when Dean looked up in question.

Dean shrugged, fixing his eyes back on the task at hand.

“Much less now than I did in the beginning. Back when I was young and stupid, I thought it was cool. Over time, it just started to annoy me. Made me realize how shallow some people are.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But to be honest, I think Principal Shurley just didn’t want to punish me cause he has a crush on me.”

Castiel choked on his own breath, the statement throwing him. It didn’t even get better when Dean looked up, his grin wide, showing he was obviously joking.

“You shouldn’t joke about something like that.”

“Why not,” Dean replied, face falling slightly. “Cause he’s a man?”

“No,” Castiel replied, confused. “Because he’s our Principal? Can you imagine the consequences this would have for him if such a rumor gets out?”

“Wow, Cas, calm it. I was just joking around.”

“Well, you ‘joking around’ is exactly what got us here, now isn’t it?” Castiel said, surprising himself when it came out more of a playful reprimand than actual malice.

Dean still looked chastised. “Touché.”

They were silent for a moment, Castiel already believing the topic to be over, when Dean surprised him yet again.

“Nevertheless, he’s really not my type anyway.”

This time, Castiel snorted - actually _snorted_ \- with laughter.

“Well thank God, I would have been concerned for you if he was. He would be a far cry from your usual conquests.”

Dean laughed at that. “True - much too old.”

“And male,” Castiel added, biting his lip the moment the words were out. Damn, he had sworn himself to never start such a topic - with _anyone._

But when Dean didn’t reply immediately, Castiel looked back up at him, finding confused eyes on him.

“Ehm, Cas? … You do know that gender doesn’t matter to me, right?”

And Castiel could actually _feel_ his eyes bulge and his mouth drop open.

“This… this isn’t a problem for you, is it?” Dean asked, now looking somewhat defensive. “I thought… well, I’ve been openly bi for about a year now, I just kinda thought you knew... that everyone knew.”

“You… but… you… wait, _what_?”

Castiel’s brain seemed to be stuck. Dean was bi. 

_Dean was bi._

_DEAN WAS BI._

“I’m bi,” Dean repeated one more. “Not that it really matters - I mean, I don’t usually run around telling everyone. Just… your comment threw me… I had kinda assumed… Shit, sorry man. You _don’t_ have a problem with this, right? I… I can leave…”

“I don’t!” Castiel said a tad too loud when Dean was about to get up, the movement finally startling him into action. “Sorry. I don’t have a problem, I just… this was news to me and… damn, I could have reacted a lot better to that, couldn’t I? I really am sorry.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Dean replied, sitting back down on the floor of Castiel’s room. “For making this whole thing awkward. I just… well, ever since I came out, I really don’t like people just… you know… _assuming_. Just because I don’t run around with a different guy every other week - like I did with girls a few years ago - people assume... I don’t even know what. That I’m faking it? Or that it’s a phase? I don’t know. So, yeah, sorry, I just-”

“Dean, please stop apologizing,” Castiel finally interrupted him. “This is totally on me. I didn’t know - or simply didn’t pay enough attention to know, which is probably because I’ve been trying to avoid you as best as I could-”

“Ouch.”

“What?” Castiel replied in confusion, recounting his words he started to ramble out in a desperate attempt to explain himself. “Oh God, no, sorry. Urgh, that sounds really bad, I know, I’m sorry. I just always… being around you didn’t really help my crush on you and-”

“Your what now?” Dean interrupted again, a small smile forming on his lips.

Once again, Castiel recounted his words and _oh God_. He really shouldn’t allow his mouth to talk when his brain wasn’t fully functional. Shit. Heat started shooting up his neck and into his cheeks.

“I mean… I mean-”

“You have a crush on me?” Dean asked, his grin spreading further.

And so did Castiel’s blush. He could already feel the tops of his ears burning.

“ _Had_ ,” he tried to salvage the moment, but even to his own ears, it sounded like a lie. “Oh, come on, don’t pretend like you don’t know that half the school’s got a crush on you.”

“Oh, I knew that,” Dean replied, grin still spreading as he scooted over, further into Castiel’s space. “I just always assumed you belonged to the other half.”

“Well, guess I’m not the only one then who _assumed_ things about the other one,” Castiel said bravely and somewhat petulantly, looking squarely into Dean’s eyes.

“True,” Dean hummed, dangerously close now. “Right now, for example, I _assume_ you wouldn’t mind me kissing you?”

“You would assume wrong,” Castiel shot back, even as his body betrayed him, leaning into the gravity of Dean. “Just because I have a crush on you, doesn’t mean I want to be one of your conquests.”

“Again, you’re _assuming_ things about me, Castiel.” Dean’s voice was a mere whisper now, his face so close Castiel could count the freckles on his nose. “I never said I wanted you to just be a conquest.”

“Isn’t that what you do?”

“Yeah, it’s what I _did_. Because I always _assumed_ the only guy I really wanted to be with was either straight or even a-sexual.”

Castiel swallowed hard. Given the fact that he had never shown any interest in _anyone_ , he could certainly understand why Dean had come to that impression. He swallowed again, realizing that without hesitation, he had understood - and accepted - that Dean was talking about him.

“Guess,” he whispered, his voice giving out. He licked his lips before starting again. “Guess we really should stop assuming things about the other.”

Dean’s eyes had wandered to his lips, following the movement of his tongue.

“Absolutely,” he whispered back and leaned in.

The next thing Castiel became aware of was that Dean’s lips on his felt soft and warm and perfect. He curled his hand into Dean’s shirt, pulling him even closer. 

His art project lay all but forgotten.

~*~

It took a long time before they came back up for air, and even longer until they could let go of each other and calm their kisses. It was pure torture, turning back to the miniature after that - but they somehow managed.

After the final layer of lacquer was applied, they spent more time sharing kisses, and softly speaking reassuring words that they had both wanted this for years - cursing the fact they had never wandered in the same social circles to realize the other’s attraction much sooner.

It was already late in the evening by the time Castiel finally walked Dean to the front door.

“So… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Dean’s question was cute on so many levels, especially the shy puppy eyes he gave him. Catching the underlying meaning of Dean’s question, Castiel smiled.

“Definitely.”

Dean’s answering smile told him enough. This would not be a relationship they would hide from the school; they were both out, after all, even if they hadn’t known about the other until a few hours - and a whole lot of hot kisses - earlier.

Dean leaned in one last time for a sweet goodbye kiss, then turned and moved over to his car. Just before he reached it, Castiel remembered something.

“Hey, Dean?” He waited for Dean to turn around again. “You’ll have to explain football to me before the weekend.”

Dean’s smile was radiant as he came jogging back to Castiel’s, capturing his lips in another bruising kiss. Still holding him close, he replied. “Sure. Can’t have the quarterback’s boyfriend not understanding the game, now can we?”

“Boyfriend?” Castiel asked in surprise, his cheeks already hurting from his joyful smile.

It grew even wider when Dean nodded. “Yeah, Boyfriend. Definitely.”

Castiel's only reply was to pull Dean back into another long kiss - and his _boyfriend_ did not complain about it at all. Not one bit.

_~ The End ~_

**Author's Note:**

> As always, the biggest thanks to the most wonderful and perfect [ArielSakura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielSakura) for beta-reading 💕


End file.
